


carte blanche

by troubled



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20091997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubled/pseuds/troubled
Summary: you look good enough to bury.the problem with yunho-sonsaengnim is that he's very verypretty.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> someone sent a prompt to my curiouscat months ago, for senior year student!cm & teacher assistant!yh. i suppose this qualifies, even if it's gone meandering off into the fields and gotten lost somewhere.
> 
> it'll come home. it always does.

The problem with Yunho-sonsaengnim is that he's very, very _pretty_.

And Changmin has a mortal weakness for pretty things, as well as the cultivated conviction that he should always get what he wants. That’s how he has Yunho bent over his desk as he fucks him, ass grinding hard against his crotch while his wrists are bound to the small of his back with his own neck tie. The sounds he makes are muffled behind tightly-clenched teeth, tears tracking down his cheeks as he gets fucked hard enough to rattle the little knick-knacks on the desk. There’s a picture of Yunho with students from his previous school, bright grins all around. Changmin viciously wonders what they’d think if they see their beloved teacher right now, a quivering mess of wants and needs. He doesn't have much time to prolong their game; he's expected at swim practice ten minutes ago, so he fucks deeper and faster and comes into Yunho's tight ass. 

It’s _good_. It’s always good with Yunho, but it’s never enough. It leaves him wanting _more _and somehow, that pisses Changmin off. He takes a plug out from his pocket and shoves the bulbous silicone past Yunho’s reddened rim once his cock slips out, making sure his come stays inside. Yunho moans weakly when Changmin plays with the plug, tugging it around. To and fro, left and right, enjoying the desperate noises he gets in return. Yunho still hasn't come, _can't_, with the ring around his cock. That’s one of their rules: he doesn’t get to come when Changmin plays with him in school. Changmin tucks himself into his pants as the older man shakily straightens, knees threatening to buckle. His hands are still tied, only wearing his dress shirt that's already damp with sweat, cock jutting out from underneath the soft blue material. Changmin thinks about leaving him like that. Maybe tie him to the chair so he’d still be there when Changmin comes back. Open and slick and ready for Changmin’s cock.

Changmin imagines some other students finding Yunho where he’s left him.

Could’ve been fun, but he knows well enough that he doesn’t like sharing. Only he gets to see Yunho like this, utterly debauched. Wrecked. Completely _his_.

“Stay still.” Changmin puts a hand over Yunho’s hip to steady him, tugging at the tie to loosen the knot. He keeps the hand there as he does up Yunho’s pants and gives the straining cock an affectionate pat. Yunho winces, rubbing at his reddened wrists. They’ll bruise; Changmin can’t wait to see colours blossom against that pretty pale skin tomorrow. Can’t wait to see what kind of excuse Yunho will give the rest of the teaching staff, other students. He tilts Yunho’s face for a kiss, grins at the dazed look he gets in return. “Thanks for the lesson, sonsaengnim.”

*

Changmin had his eyes on Yunho-sonsaengnim since the older man first transferred from Gwangju, but his initial attempts at charming Yunho were met with blank, confused stares and politely-worded refusals as he navigated around Changmin (to escape, mostly). Which only served to make Changmin all the more determined; he doesn’t do well with rejections. And he knew he’d hit the jackpot when he stumbled upon Yunho’s predilection for sucking strangers’ cocks in the back rooms of the local gay club. He shouldn’t even be there, it’s not his scene, but Siwon had dragged him to the shitty hole in the wall under the pretence of pre-birthday celebration and then proceeded to abandon him in favour of romancing a guy who’s dressed in a slinky blue dress and looked wholly unimpressed by Siwon’s flexing. 

Bored, Changmin wandered off to where it’s quieter (there’s not much option) and that’s how he found the much-loved, damned near sainted Jung Yunho on his knees, being forced to take a cock down his throat with his spine arching back like it’s going to break. The room wasn’t locked and he could see enough from the cracked-open sliver afforded by the door to know what and who he’s looking at. The man looming over Yunho was the size of a brick shithouse, didn’t seem concerned as Yunho choked and struggled to breathe. He just kept rocking the thick, hard cock back and forth, muttering grunts and curses as he started fucking Yunho’s mouth in earnest. Yunho was gripping the man’s hips like it was a lifeline, made no attempt to fight him off even if he’s obviously suffocating. Changmin pressed himself close to the wall. He stayed to watch the show, conscious of how hard his cock was pressing against his zipper.

He also took a video. Which he showed to Yunho when he managed to corner the teacher, his smile shark-like as Yunho’s face was drained of colours once he realised what he was looking at. 

“I’m sure the education board will be very concerned once they find out about your… extra-curricular activities, sonsaengnim,” Changmin had said. He tucked the phone back into his pocket, point already made. “But don’t worry. I can be persuaded to keep your secret. For the right price, of course.”

Yunho looked like he was about to throw up. He’s even swaying on his feet and had to lean against the wall to keep him upright. “H-How much?”

Changmin laughed. “You misunderstand, sonsaengnim. I don’t need your money.” He paused, waited for the realisation to dawn in those dark eyes. Once it did, Yunho took a step back, already shaking his head. He’s even paler than before. “I’ll give you until midnight to think about it. After that—” his grin widened, all teeth, “—well, who knows. Maybe you’ll have better prospects in a different industry. You did look very good on your knees.”

Yunho was still leaning against the wall when Changmin left him.

His phone pinged in the middle of dinner, a message from an unknown number.

Changmin smiled to himself, cutting up his steak with careful precision. His parents were arguing about a bungled up deal somewhere in China worth millions and he’s too busy thinking about where he’s going to fuck Yunho for their first time to care.

*

“This is what you want, isn’t it.” Changmin curls his fingers around Yunho’s cock, slicking it up with precome. Yunho shudders, head shaking, but his hips chase after Changmin’s hand and that’s the only thing that matters. “Look at you, _sonsaengnim_.”

Changmin purrs out the moniker, each syllable dripping with sarcasm. He lifts Yunho easily and pins him to the wall. Presses into Yunho’s body, so close he can feel the outline of Yunho’s ribs against his chest. His cock is a hard, persistent curve sliding along the crease of Yunho’s ass and he rocks forward and up, lube making everything so much slicker. _Messier_. He can also feel the sluggish trail of come leaking onto his cock and the clench of Yunho’s ass as he tries desperately to keep everything inside, per Changmin’s order. Not that it’s working: they’ve already gone a couple rounds and Yunho’s hole is too well-fucked to tighten enough. 

Changmin lowers him, hands sliding to Yunho’s ass. Grabbing the cheeks and pulling them aside so more dribbles out. The carpet’s ruined, but it’s definitely worth it to see the pained look on Yunho’s face. Changmin prods two fingers through the mess, stirring up whatever’s left inside. Yunho presses his face into Changmin’s shoulder, breathing gone quick and shallow. He makes a strangled noise when Changmin slips in the third finger, but it goes inside easily. Changmin licks at the corded muscles of his neck, straining and shifting underneath bruise-marked skin. His cock demands the hot clench of Yunho’s body, wants to fuck and fuck and _fuck_ the older man so he can feel Changmin for days. So he won’t be able to sit down without being reminded of being split open by Changmin’s cock. 

Yunho squirms around Changmin’s fingers, legs flailing indecently. Trying to find purchase. Trying to fuck himself on the fingers because despite his objections, he likes being fucked by Changmin. He comes the hardest after hours of playing, after he’d been used so hard he can’t even tell the days apart. Changmin spreads his fingers, stretching him further and thinking about putting his entire hand up Yunho’s ass. It’d be nice and tight, closing around his wrist. _One day. Soon. _He shoves the fourth finger in, leaving only his thumb outside. Yunho lets out a strangled whine that gets louder when Changmin fucks him with them, pressing his thumb into Yunho’s perineum at the same time. Yunho’s legs jerk, ass clamping down like a vice on Changmin’s fingers as he comes.

Changmin just keeps going, milking Yunho ruthlessly until his moans turn to frantic cries.

“Stop, stop please stop—” Yunho tries to squirm away, doesn’t get far with Changmin’s other hand pinning him to place. His voice has gone hoarse and scratchy from all the crying; Changmin had never heard anything more beautiful. “It hurts! Please!” 

And because he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for, Changmin takes his fingers out. Replaces them with his cock and continues fucking Yunho. It’s amazing how much tighter he is when Changmin strokes him to one dry orgasm after another, mouth opened in soundless screams and reduced to helplessly twitching around Changmin’s cock. 

*

“You’re in a good mood lately,” Sooyeon comments, leaning over to steal some of his popcorn. It’s movie night and they’re watching a godawful romantic garbage, because it’s Jiyeon’s turn to choose. His parents are cuddled together, but they’re both on their phones. Possibly orchestrating business deals, even when this movie night bullshit is their idea of ‘family bonding time’. Sooyeon kicks at Changmin’s leg when he ignores her. “C’mon, oppa. Did you get a new girlfriend?”

Changmin shrugs. He tilts his phone screen away from Sooyeon, so she wouldn’t get an eyeful of the toys he’s planning to buy for Yunho’s birthday. He already found a favourite: a cock cage, that comes attached to a plug. With a urethral sound thrown in. He tries not to imagine Yunho’s face once he sees it, since it’ll be inconvenient to pop a boner right in front of his nosy sister. He nudges her away, relocating the popcorn bowl over his lap. “Kind of.”

“I knew it!”

Changmin rolls his eyes. And dodges the cushion thrown by Jiyeon, who complains that they’re ruining the movie and _who cares about oppa’s girlfriend; it’s not like he’s going to keep her around for long anyway_.

Later that night, Changmin goes over to Yunho’s place. It’s a dump but Yunho keeps the apartment relatively clean and the walls are thick enough for them not to be overheard, as long as Changmin doesn’t make him scream too much. He looks resigned as he lets Changmin inside, which is offensive to a certain degree, and Changmin makes sure to remind Yunho how lucky he is to be able to enjoy Changmin’s company by shoving him down to the floor and fucking him raw. Yunho’s biting his lips hard enough to bleed and manages to keep most of the sound behind the tight clenching of his teeth, except for the breathless little grunts punched out of him with every ruthless thrust of Changmin’s cock. Their sweaty foreheads are pressed against each other and Yunho’s fingers are curled bony-tight around Changmin’s shoulder, almost breaking skin.

Changmin remembers Jiyeon’s words and vaguely thinks that it’s been five months since he’d started fucking Yunho.

And that’s five months too long for him to be keeping to a singular person. Must’ve been a world record or something.

Changmin sinks himself as deep as he can into Yunho and dips his head to kiss him. It’s not a nice kiss, goes straight to nasty with too much biting, but something in Changmin’s chest rattles anyway when Yunho chases after his mouth once he pulls away. Yunho’s lips are bruised and full, a deeper red than the pink flush on his face, eyes almost black as he looks up at Changmin with the kind of filthy desperation that’s a long way from the hurt uncertainty he wore when Changmin first fucked him. It’s a definite improvement and Changmin takes full credit, so pleased with the way Yunho’s body fits against him that he fucks them both to orgasm without playing around too much and spends the night over. He wakes up with his cock stirring to life inside Yunho’s ass, Yunho whining pitifully as he squirms and frets, and Changmin finds that he’s not really interested in finding the next plaything.

Not when there are so many other things he wants to do to Yunho. 

*

Minho tosses a balled up wad of paper at Changmin’s head and pouts. “C’mon, hyung. The party’s not gonna be fun without you.”

“I told you, I’ve got things to do.” Yunho chooses that very moment to walk past the classroom, laughing at something the girls surrounding him said, and their eyes meet. Changmin smirks, raising a hand to wave at Yunho and watches with immense satisfaction as the older man’s cheeks turn pink as he hastily looks away. He turns back to Minho, who’s eyeing him with suspicion. “What?”

“Y’know, you’ve been spending a lot of time with Yunho-sonsaengnim.”

“I need help with Korean History.”

Minho’s eyes narrow even further. “He doesn’t teach Korean History.”

_Fuck_. “Yeah, he does. Back in his old school. He’s helping me with a paper.”

“What pape—”

Changmin sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, trying very hard not to stab Minho with a pencil.

*

It’s late and the last of the students are heading out, Changmin included. He always puts in an extra hour in the pool when there’s a swim meet around the corner. He knows Yunho is still around, because Yunho’s shitty Toyota is in the parking lot, and he’s about to drop by the staff room (wouldn’t be the first time Yunho’s too engrossed in grading papers to notice everyone else gone) when he spots the man at the school gates. Yunho is talking to another man, slightly taller, but with a wider, more muscular build. Dressed in a fucking suit, well-tailored. Changmin can’t really see the stranger’s face from the angle they’re standing together, but they must’ve been very close, judging from the fact that he’s holding Yunho’s hand. They eventually say their goodbyes, even if the stranger looks reluctant to do so, and Yunho has to laughingly push him away to get him going. Changmin stalks to where Yunho is now standing over his car, taking out his keys.

“Sonsaengnim.”

Yunho jolts in surprise, jerking half a step away from the car. The keys jangle noisily from where he’d almost dropped them. “C-Changmin! You scared me!”

“Who were you talking to?”

“It’s—” The half-second of hesitation is enough to give the beginning of a lie away. Fury simmers under Changmin’s skin, making him flex his fingers and eventually curling them into fists. Yunho doesn’t seem to notice as he fumbles for an answer. “Sung Hoon’s a friend from university. He was just dropping by to— Changmin, w-what are you doing?!”

Changmin drags Yunho across the parking lot, into the sports equipment room. He locks the door and flings Yunho face first over the stack of high jump mats, yanking Yunho's pants down about his thighs. There's no preamble as he spits on his hand, slicks up his cock and then pushes between Yunho's spread thighs. Yunho makes a high, keening noise when Changmin shoves his cock inside, too warm and too tight. He struggles for the first few minutes, voice muffled from where his face is shoved against the mat as Changmin fucks him hard. The fight eventually sluices out of his limbs and he just lies there, taking whatever Changmin's giving. Who isn't gentle, considering he's riding Yunho with nothing but spit to smooth his way.

It doesn't stop Yunho from pushing back into each shove.

He pulls out roughly and flips Yunho onto his back, sliding home once again without pause. Yunho’s hands rise and clench down on Changmin’s shoulders, but he isn’t pushing away, clinging tight as Changmin chases his orgasm. Yunho’s head is thrown back, the long, sweat-slick line of his neck bared. An invitation for Changmin to lean over and sink his teeth in, which he does. He rocks forward a few more times, brutal rhythm faltering and his orgasm crashes upon him like a tidal wave, catches him by surprise. Yunho’s body has snapped taut, a keening wail spilling from his lips as Changmin works him over. Just when Yunho is about to come, Changmin cuts him off. Keeps him teetering at the cusp of _not yet not enough_, watching him slowly come down before Changmin goes again. And again and again. Relentlessly pushing Yunho to the edge, but never allowing him to tumble over until he’s a writhing, incoherent mess. Until he’s begging, _pleading_ for Changmin to end the torture. Even then, Changmin drags it out, fucks Yunho with his fingers, keeping his rhythm excruciatingly irregular.

“Nobody gets you like this,” Changmin hisses. The planes of Yunho’s chest are smooth, perfect, and his collarbones stand out in stark relief as he strains for more. Changmin remembers the stranger, who’d been allowed to touch Yunho so freely, and his hand snaps out, quick as a snake, to tangle his fingers in Yunho’s hair. He pulls Yunho’s head back, making his body arch painfully. “You’re mine, understand? _Mine_.”

*

Yunho doesn’t like Changmin’s party drugs. He doesn’t even like drinking, which is fucking ridiculous for a grown ass man, so of course Changmin has to rectify that very problem. The party is in full-swing when he steals away with Yunho, dragging the older man onto the second floor of Kyuhyun’s townhouse. While it’s fun to watch how Yunho’s face scrunches with disapproval in the midst of all that chaos, Changmin has better things to do to him. They wouldn’t be missed, much – most of his friends are already either high or drunk or both, and the few sober ones are busy keeping anyone from setting the place on fire. The last time he checked, Kyuhyun is sprawled over one of the pool loungers, enjoying the attention of a pair of identical twins. Minho is nowhere to be seen, but that’s nothing new. Changmin snags several bottles of beer, makes sure he has his party favours in his back pocket and finds an empty room where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

It doesn’t take long for Changmin to get Yunho naked. What’s more difficult is to force him to take the pills and it isn’t until Changmin forcefully pries his mouth open that Yunho yields. He coughs after he has to wash them down with beer, keeps protesting as Changmin forces him to continue drinking. He’s a lightweight, already flushed and docile before he even finishes the second bottle, and he goes easily when Changmin tells him to suck him off. Getting sucked off by Yunho is as close to a religious experience as one can get and Changmin’s willing to write a thank you card to whoever’s looking down at them right now. He likes to see tears spring to Yunho’s eyes as he forces his way past Yunho’s gag reflex, going further each time they do this. Yunho looks even prettier on his knees in between Changmin’s legs, mouth full of Changmin’s cock and trying so very hard to not choke as Changmin fucks that velveteen heat, taking whatever he wants. However he wants it. He buries his hand in Yunho’s hair and rolls his hips lazily, running his cock over the soft skin of Yunho’s palate. Into the back of his throat. He feels Yunho spasms around him, throat clenching and fluttering, and that makes everything so much better. 

He holds himself there, satisfied as more tears streak down Yunho’s cheeks. 

When he goes too far, Yunho tries to wrench his head away and Changmin grips the back of his skull, fitting a thumb alongside Yunho’s jawline and squeezes in warning. He tips the chin up without much protest, overdoes it on purpose so he’s pushing Yunho’s head up a bit more than can be comfortable. It makes Yunho swallow audibly, throat moving against Changmin’s thumb. He gives the older man a few seconds before he tightens his grip, thumb sliding down to press against Yunho’s windpipe and watches Yunho struggle to not flinch away. Satisfied that he’d made his point, Changmin pushes his cock back into the tight, wet heat of Yunho’s mouth, feeling the panicked flutter of his throat every time he gets too deep. Yunho’s swallowing desperately around him, not really doing much more as they settle on a lazy rhythm.

“Look at how good you are for me,” Changmin says, licking his lips as he stares down at Yunho. The dazed look, swollen lips, mouth shiny with spit: so fucking _pretty_. “Should just keep you here, on your knees for me every single day, every time I want it _oh fuuuuuck_—” 

Changmin doesn’t even realise he’s coming until he is, cock shoved right down Yunho’s throat. He’s vaguely aware of a lot of choked, gagging noises, but he doesn’t pay any attention to them, too busy riding out his orgasm. Yunho pushes his forehead against the inside of Changmin’s knee and moans, low and helpless. It’s a wounded sound and his eyes are closed tight, chest heaving as he drags much-needed air into his lungs. He’s also rutting against Changmin’s calf, desperately searching for friction for his own hard cock. 

“You should just resign. Do this full-time.” Changmin pats Yunho’s cheek, fondly. “You’re a much better cocksucker than you are a teacher, sonsaengnim.”

He sees the hurt flash lightning-bright in Yunho’s eyes, sharp despite the pills and the booze, but he doesn’t think much of it as he reaches for the lube.

*

Changmin doesn’t see Yunho for three days. When he gets around to asking another teacher, he’s told that Yunho is taking a personal leave and that someone else will be taking over his classes. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, but Yunho has also apparently lost his fucking phone because Changmin’s calls are being fielded by an electronic voice telling him that the number he’s trying to contact is no longer available. After his third attempt, he throws his phone at the wall and has to get a new one delivered, which just serves to make him even more pissed off. Yunho’s apartment is locked when he goes for a visit and the next door neighbour informs Changmin that she hasn’t seen the other man for a while now. _Perhaps he went home, back to Gwangju_, she says, frowning when she looks him over. _Who are you, again? _

Changmin breaks his second phone when he still fails to get through a couple days later.

The week after, the principal announces that regrettably, Jung Yunho-sonsaengnim has decided to resign due to undisclosed reasons. They won't be having a farewell ceremony as Yunho-sonsaengnim is no longer in Seoul and they're respecting his wish for him to depart as quietly as possible. It's a terrible loss for the school, as Yunho-sonsaengnim has been a model teacher and is well-loved by the staff and the student body. Nevertheless, they wish him well in his future endeavours and hope that he will remember them fondly.

Changmin looks straight ahead as murmurs of disbelief buzz loudly through the hall. Blood pounds in his ears, fingers curled tightly into fists, and he's clenching his jaw so hard he can hear his molars grinding in protest.

*

**tbc**

*

[twitter](https://twitter.com/carnivrous) ; [tumblr](http://carnivrous.tumblr.com/) ; [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/carnivrous)


	2. 2

_Changmin’s chest is plastered to his back and he’s pushing into Yunho from behind. One of his hands is planted on the mattress, the other pressed into Yunho’s shoulder to keep him pinned to the bed. As the head of Changmin’s cock nudges against the swollen, sore rim of his hole, a choked up sob splinters loose from deep inside Yunho. He can feel the shape of Changmin’s smile between his shoulder blades. Beneath them, the sheets are rumpled and soiled. They haven’t left the bed for the entire morning, from when Changmin had woken him up at the crack of dawn with sharp, biting kisses down his back. And when the weight of Changmin on top of him crushes his face into the pillow, Yunho can’t help the desperate moan it wrenches free from his throat. His skin is hot and flushed, his face streaked with sweat and tears. Changmin had spent almost thirty minutes finger-fucking him between rounds, playing with him and making him sob with painful, painful arousal._

_He’s not allowed to come. Not yet. And his body obeys when his mind fractures little by little with each fuck, each kiss, each hungry look he sees on Changmin’s face._

_The sudden hardness of Changmin’s cock splitting him open punches the air out of Yunho’s lungs. He bites into the pillow to stop the keening wail that would’ve woken up his neighbours, fingers fisting around the sheets. The walls of his apartment are thin and he wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye if they heard him like this. _

_If they found out he’s being fucked by one of his students, how fucking filthy he actually is. _

_Yunho squeezes his eyes shut and tears roll down his sticky cheeks. _

_“Fuck— Fuck, you feel so good, sonsaengnim.” Changmin’s voice is hoarse and slightly breathless, and it drags over Yunho’s skin like scraps of sandpaper. Stripping layers off him, baring the entirety of his ugly insides for Changmin’s ravenous consumption. He’s shaking all over once Changmin’s fully seated, struggling to accommodate the fat, hard cock inside his wet, tender ass. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s fucked open — it’s tight and it hurts and it’s never enough. Changmin’s hand runs over the straining curve of his spine, like he’s offering comfort when Yunho knows very well he isn’t. “You’re so fucking— pretty. Yeah, it’s your fault. All of this—” A sharp, harsh thrust, shoving Yunho up almost against the headboard. Changmin’s spitting the words out now, like he’s pissed off at something Yunho can’t understand, and his hands curve around Yunho’s hips, digging in to keep Yunho in place when he starts fucking him roughly, “—wouldn’t have happened if you’re not so— fucking— pretty—!”_

_Yunho thinks he must be delirious, must be hearing things because that’s how it always is when he’s being fucked seven feet deep into insanity by Changmin. He isn’t pretty, far from it, and Changmin must be talking about someone else who isn’t as scarred and imperfect as Yunho. _

_Changmin fucks into Yunho like he means to break him and grinds out, viciously, “You need this, don’t you, sonsaengnim?” His rhythm falters, getting more erratic. Yunho’s trying to catch his breath but everything inside him isn’t working right. All he can concentrate on is the maddening drag of Changmin’s cock, back and forth, back and forth. His entire existence narrows down to that singular point of contact. “You need me, right?”_

_Yunho rubs his damp cheek against the pillow and tries to breathe. He hears the question, but the desperation on Changmin’s face steals the answer right out of his mouth. “I—”_

It’s the alarm that jolts him awake this time, shrill and unrelenting, and Yunho sticks a hand down his shorts to curl around his half-hard cock. There’s tears on his cheeks, salt on his tongue and he squeezes his eyes shut when he comes into the too-tight circle of his own fingers, with the alarm still screaming in the background. His chest hurts, like he’d stuffed it with sharp, jagged pieces of glass, shredding him carelessly from the inside. 

Five years later and Yunho still can’t get rid of Changmin’s ghost.

*

“_Can I pick you up for lunch?_”

Yunho cradles the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he tries to put on his jacket. The clock near the doorway tells him that he’s going to miss his train if he doesn’t get going in two minutes. “I promised Hina-san I’d help her find a new coffee table today. We’ll be in IKEA, if you want to meet us there.”

There’s a long-suffering sigh from the other end. “_I’m going to file a complaint if she keeps monopolising your time. That’s twice this week alone._” 

“Why are you keeping track?” Yunho laughs and grabs his keys, his bag. He has to double back for a scarf; he keeps forgetting that it’s colder outside. Winter’s edging into autumn, sweeping in like an eager lover with its icy embrace. Yunho wraps the scarf around his neck and scuffs through brittle red-brown leaves in front of the building. “Shouldn’t you be working instead?”

“_I should, but—_” Yunho almost stumbles when he hears,_ “—I missed you._”

He feels his cheeks getting warm and hides his smile into the folds of soft cashmere. The elderly lady from the third floor spots him from afar and waves at him. Her granddaughter goes to the kindergarten he works at and she’s the brightest four year old he’d ever seen, so full of questions. Yunho lowers his head into a half-bow, before waving back. “We just saw each other at Sugawara-san’s party last weekend.”

“_It’s been three days._”

“_Only_ three days,” Yunho corrects. The light flicks to green and he hurries across the road, taking a left turn towards the train station. “I have to go, but I’ll call you when we’re done, alright?”

“_Promise?_”

Yunho laughs at that, murmuring his goodbyes at the platform as the train rolls in. He meets Hina near the Kohaku store and goes on a quest to find the perfect coffee table for her new apartment. He doesn’t ask why she’s moving again because everyone has their own secrets. His Japanese is good enough now that he doesn’t need his phone to translate the words as he wanders from one showroom to the next. It would vibrate though, at odd intervals, and it would always be picture attachments instead of mere texts. They’re nothing extraordinary, just mundane everyday things: a dog looking curiously into a fountain, the interior of a restaurant followed by a bowl of ramen, a blurry image of a portrait and an angled shot of a bouquet of white tulips.

Yunho’s smiling down at the last picture when another text chimes in.

It says: _look up._

And when he does, he sees Sung Hoon standing in front of him, holding out the bouquet.

“I’m here to save you from Hina,” Sung Hoon says, grinning at Yunho’s surprise. His hand catches Yunho’s and he cradles it like he’s afraid of bruising Yunho if he holds on too tightly. “We should go before she finds me here.”

Yunho laughs and his heart is light for once, fluttering inside his chest like the wings of a bird seconds away from flight. 

*

Sung Hoon has his jacket draped over the back of his chair and he’s wearing a wool turtleneck that shows off his arms nicely. They’d dropped Hina off after lunch and found a nice little café just off the busier parts of the city. Sharing stories about their day, their mutual friends and this is easy. This is safe. This is nothing like being with Changmin. Yunho feels himself loosening up enough that when Sung Hoon tangles their fingers while they share a slice of cheesecake, Yunho lets him. In the evening, they go to a club downtown. Sung Hoon laughingly confides that he doesn’t do this often, that he doesn’t really know how to dance and Yunho is charmed by the self-deprecating grin on Sung Hoon’s face. He pulls him to the dance floor before the night is over and it becomes warm very, very quickly as Sung Hoon presses his body against him. They’re not dancing so much as they’re swaying in one place, Sung Hoon’s hands heavy and possessive on his hips. The rest of the undulating mass knows better than to come between them even when the beats get faster, more frantic.

What happens after is something else entirely. Once they’ve escaped the club, Sung Hoon, very carefully, takes Yunho’s hand into his own as they make their way back to the car. The shared silence sits like river stones in the pit of Yunho’s stomach; cool and smooth and pleasant. Sung Hoon keeps smiling and when they reach Yunho’s building, he hesitates before leaning in. There’s a question in his eyes, an unspoken ‘_I’ll stop if you ask me to_’ as his mouth touches Yunho’s. 

Yunho closes his eyes and lets him.

*

“Sung Hoon is nice, isn’t he?” Hina’s nails are a different colour today. She drums them against the surface of the table, tap tapping away to her own little beat. “Are you two—” her eyebrows arch and her mouth tilts into a smirk, “—together?”

Yunho sips his Americano, determined not to be tricked into revealing something he shouldn’t. Whatever it is between him and Sung Hoon is so new and bright and shiny that he doesn’t want to ruin it with expectations. It’s only been a couple weeks since they reconnected – Sung Hoon calling out to him from the other side of the Shibuya crossing, when Yunho hadn’t expected to see a familiar face in a foreign country. Yunho can’t hide the smile on his face at the memory and Hina notices, as she always does. 

She taps the back of his hand with one deep red fingertip. “Aren’t you lucky, little lamb.”

*

It’s summer and it’s so hot that it makes Yunho think about the beach. He pictures a vast blueness in his mind and a stretch of golden sand that goes on forever, cool breeze skimming the sweat off his skin. It would be nice to go away for a while, find a whole new city near the coast where no one knows him. He’d run away once; it wouldn't be too hard to do again. He thinks about walking into the sea at night, sinking under the weight of his own secrets and letting saltwater fill his lungs until he can sleep without dreaming about the taste of Changmin’s skin. Yunho looks down at the colourful storybook he would be reading for the children tomorrow and wishes for a vacation. 

He’s tossing and turning in bed, sticky with sweat, when Sung Hoon texts him, ‘_goodnight! <3_’. 

Yunho curls around the phone, clutching it like a talisman, and drifts into fretful slumber.

He dreams of the burn of Changmin’s hands on his skin.

*

Yunho clings even more desperately to his routine, to the semblance of normalcy in a life he’d built from nothing. He picks up a few new hobbies, like cultivating succulents. He buys five at once and lines them up on the windowsill with the best natural light. He gives each a different name and tells them about his dates with Sung Hoon, about the way Sung Hoon holds him and kisses him and leaves him light-headed with want. He tells them about looking at his wrists and wishing Sung Hoon would mark him up, because the only thing he’d worn was bruises from Changmin’s teeth and hands. Shame twists up his insides, but the succulents keep his secrets. Yunho busies himself with work and allows Sung Hoon to steal the rest of his hours away.

The second month they’re together, he moves in with Sung Hoon. Yunho finds that he’s out of practice when it comes to relationships.

In his younger years, his mother had always cooked for him and Jihye. When he was in university, she came over once in a while and made side dishes for him. The woeful state of his fridge became a running joke in the family, right up to when he was transferred to Seoul. Jihye often complained that it was difficult enough to get him to eat in the first place – he would always be either working or helping students out with their school work in his spare time and forgetting to eat. It became worse when he was involved with Changmin and sometimes, he went for days without proper meals. Racked with guilt and fear of being found out, of ruining his family’s reputation.

Running away hadn’t made things better, but it’s different, living with Sung Hoon.

He makes sure Yunho eat right, starting with breakfast and ending at supper. Sung Hoon wakes up early and makes omelettes, toast, coffee, tea for him. There are also tarts laid out on the table because sometimes, Yunho likes something sweet for breakfast. He also likes to sit at the counter, chin in one hand, as he watches Sung Hoon move around the kitchen. Knife on one side, cold cuts and eggs on the other. Tomatoes, red and juicy in a bowl. Chopping board. Pepper, basil, milk for the omelette. Toasted bread. Butter. Little bit of cinnamon and some other spices he tosses together. Sung Hoon takes his hand and puts him to work. His arms are wound loosely around Yunho’s waist as Yunho takes to the task of assembling their breakfast: toasts with cinnamon on the plate first, then the omelettes, then tarts.

Sung Hoon congratulates him with a kiss on the back of the neck and goes to get some yoghurt and fruits.

Slowly, slowly Yunho gets used to being in love. Sung Hoon sends flowers to the kindergarten, to the delight of Yunho’s colleagues. They share a favourite Korean restaurant, one they visit whenever Yunho feels homesick. He’s grateful that Sung Hoon doesn’t ask what keeps him in Japan. Sung Hoon’s friends become his and they go to parties where he’s introduced as Sung Hoon’s better half (he protests but they laugh at him, at the resigned look on Sung Hoon’s face). His succulents get more friends and Sung Hoon actively takes part in naming the new arrivals, as if they’re his children as well. Yunho allows himself to fall deeper.

For the first time in years, he doesn’t think of Changmin.

*

Yunho keeps up with the news from back home. It’s a habit, perfunctory. He scrolls through his feed as he waits for Sung Hoon to get out of shower, idly skimming headlines until he sees a name he recognises.

_Shim Changmin, the young CEO of AdvanTech, on his meteoric rise to fame and fortune. _

Yunho can’t remember clicking on the link, but he must’ve done so because he’d been redirected to a major news website. There’s a few paragraphs introducing the company, but Yunho’s eyes are fixed on Changmin’s picture prefacing the wall of text. He’s photographed in a large office, leaning against a polished, expensive-looking table with his arms crossed. The suit he’s wearing fits him perfectly. His hair is longer, chestnut-brown, and the youthful roundness to his features has all but disappeared. This older version of Changmin exudes confidence and authority, in such a way that just seeing him again steals the air right out of Yunho’s lungs.

Changmin’s eyes are sharp as he looks straight at the camera, a slight tilt to his jaw.

His voice echoes inside Yunho’s head: 

_“You need me, don’t you, sonsaengnim?”_

“—don’t feel like going out. Vongole for dinner, how does that sound?” Sung Hoon’s pushing up the sleeves of his sweater, but his smile falters when he comes closer to where Yunho’s perched on the sofa. “—Yunho? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Sung Hoon leads him back to their room and Yunho lets him, because his head is suddenly too full of Changmin and Changmin’s voice and Changmin’s hungry grin. He’s sitting at the edge of the mattress and his head is cradled in Sung Hoon’s hands, fingers flicking over the nape of his neck until his skin prickles with need. Sung Hoon is hesitant when Yunho reaches out for a kiss, but goes along with it. He arches up into Sung Hoon, frantic like he’s running out of oxygen, reflexively spreading his legs wider when Sung Hoon moves between them. As Sung Hoon’s mouth moves over Yunho’s collarbone, leaving a warm, glistening trail of saliva, Yunho slides his hand down Sung Hoon’s spine and works his fingertips under the waistband of his jeans.

“Are you sure—”

He makes a choked-off noise and drags Sung Hoon down to him.

Yunho doesn’t want to focus on anything else but Sung Hoon’s hands. Sung Hoon’s hands on his waist, Sung Hoon’s hands roaming over his thighs, Sung Hoon’s hands on the back of his neck, on the underside of his chin, clasped tightly in his own as Sung Hoon lays him down on the bed. Sung Hoon’s weight impresses itself on the mattress and desperately, Yunho finds himself wishing:_ use me hard, make me yours, rip me open if you want to_. The pleas remain inside him, behind the clenching of his teeth, as Sung Hoon slides into him slowly, taking his time. Yunho’s body gives way in excruciating increments, unused to the absence of pain that comes with being filled. The sense of displacement is so thick he’s choking on it. He thinks about being fucked by Changmin and the comparison makes him dizzy. He can’t see straight, the room swimming before his eyes. Changmin’s face is overlaid upon Sung Hoon’s in the flicker from one heartbeat to the other.

He gasps wetly, tears streaking down his cheeks, and Sung Hoon stops.

“You okay?” His voice quivers and his eyebrows furrow with worries. A thumb brushes at the tears, pressing at the dampness of Yunho’s skin. “Did I hurt you?”

There’s a low ache in his belly he doesn’t know how to explain in words. He needs Sung Hoon to slam his hips against him, needs Sung Hoon deep inside him, filling him up and settling the restlessness rattling through his bones. He needs to be fucked out, fucked so hard and rough he can’t catch breath, can’t think of anything else, anyone else. 

Yunho wants to take Sung Hoon’s hands, wrap them around his throat and tell him: _please just make me forget._

*

He doesn’t cry out Changmin’s name when he comes.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t.

His mouth is cut open and bloody and Sung Hoon still kisses him tenderly.

*

Sung Hoon is heavy on top of him, stretching Yunho’s body drum-tight with the thickness of his cock inside him. But he’s gentle, slow. It’s sweet the way he watches Yunho’s face every time he fucks into him, like he’s collecting every gasp and flutter. He’s so careful with the way he moves Yunho that Yunho wants to stroke the sweat-dark hair off his face and tell him it’s okay, that he won’t break, hasn’t done so far. Instead, he spreads his legs a little wider for Sung Hoon, lets Sung Hoon get in deeper and it’s worth it for Sung Hoon’s smile, for the small grateful noise he makes. Sung Hoon kisses his shoulder, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Sung Hoon kisses him until Yunho’s mouth is slippery and hot. Aching.

Sung Hoon whines, low and breathy, spine arching as he pushes in deep and fills Yunho up, leaving no room for anyone else.

*

The party is already in full swing by the time they get there. Yunho keeps to Sung Hoon’s side at first, before excusing himself when their conversation veers into the part of Sung Hoon’s business he doesn’t understand. He sees Hina talking to Sung Hoon’s secretary near the bar, a tall woman with features that remind him of Greek statues. Sung Hoon often complains about her being too efficient, though not unkindly. Yunho pauses to talk to a few people he knows, before drifting from one room to another in the spacious mansion.

He’s admiring the painting on the wall when the man approaches him. They stand side by side in front of a beautiful depiction of picnic scene; a man in an elaborate suit courting a fair maiden underneath the shade of a large tree. A dog sits on its haunches on the checkered red-and-white cloth laid out on the ground, right next to a basket with its lid closely shut. Perhaps waiting impatiently for when its master and mistress deem it proper to start their feasting. Yunho thinks about secretly planning a picnic to surprise Sung Hoon that weekend when he hears,

“Jung Yunho-san, I presume?”

He turns to his companion, noticing for the first time that they’re alone in the room. Yunho doesn’t recognise him but he smiles nonetheless. Must be one of Sung Hoon’s associates if he’s at the party. “Yes, I am.” He inclines his head slightly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“My name’s not important.” The man shrugs. He’s older, hair streaked with grey where it’s slicked back against his skull, and there’s a drawling menace to his words that Yunho finds unsettling. “You see, we have a mutual friend and I’m anxious for all of us to be re-acquainted.”

Yunho knows he should get away while he can, but ingrained propriety stops him from leaving. “Sung Hoon-san is at the front—”

“That’s not who I’m talking about.” He grabs Yunho’s arm, bruisingly tight. Yunho sucks in a breath, tries to shake him free but stops when he feels something sharp pressed against his rib. The man’s grin widens. “Took me a while to find you away from your watchdogs, kid.” He gestures at a large French window at the other end of the room, which opens to the dimly-lit garden. “Now. You either come with me quietly or I deliver you with a few pints of blood missing, your choice.”

Neither of them notices Sung Hoon’s presence, until he’s suddenly there and has a hand over the man’s wrist, keeping the knife steady. He swings and his fist connects with the man’s cheekbone, snapping his head to the side. The man goes down to his knees, grunting with shock and pain, and the sound gets cut off by the crunch of Sung Hoon’s foot coming down against his face. He falls back then, out of sight behind the couch, and a moan tells Yunho that the man is still alive when Sung Hoon brings his foot down again. And again. And _again_, until the sharp crack of bone becomes a wet mushy sound that echoes inside the room. Yunho sways and falls on his ass, stays transfixed at the sight of Sung Hoon staring down with narrowed eyes at whatever’s left of the man. 

“Yunho, you should wait for me outside,” Sung Hoon tells him, his voice low and steady. “Go on. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Yunho can’t really move from the floor, not when he knows exactly what lies beyond the couch and why Sung Hoon’s is wiping his hands the way he is, deliberately removing all traces of blood from the palm and the back. He drags the sole of his right shoe over the man’s trousers before stepping back. His eyes are cold, but he still manages to glance over and smile at Yunho; how he does that is beyond Yunho and he can’t reconcile this Sung Hoon with the quiet guy who’d kissed him like he meant the world. 

Yunho clenches his fists and remains in that same frightened, mute silence as his secretary walks in on them, closing the doors behind her. She makes a beeline for Sung Hoon and he talks to her in a low voice, until she interrupts him by saying, “I think Yunho-san needs you right now.” Her smile is kind when she looks at him. “I’ll handle this.”

Sung Hoon kicks at the foot peeking from the side near him and levels her a look that she returns with a delicate shrug. He shakes his head as he strides to where Yunho is. Goes down on his knee, gently tilting Yunho’s face to one side and then the other. He’s using the same hand he’d just cleaned and there’s a warm, metallic tang to his skin that forces Yunho to stifle a shudder of revulsion. The concern in Sung Hoon’s eyes does nothing to make Yunho feel less terrified and he endures the inspection with his heart beating frantically inside his throat. Lets himself be guided to his feet by Sung Hoon’s hands.

“Are you alright?” Yunho can’t trust his voice. He nods, wordlessly, and tries not to retch. His eyes drop to Sung Hoon’s shoes and he regrets it instantly – the blood speckles against polished leather are bright under the fluorescent light. “What did he say to you?”

Hina falls upon them before Yunho can answer.

“What happened?” Her eyes widen as she takes Yunho’s arm, pulling him away from Sung Hoon. She looks him over, before she turns to scowl at Sung Hoon. Yunho is grateful for her presence, right until he hears her say, “Did he find out already? _Honestly_. After all that work to keep him away from your business.”

Sung Hoon’s hands clench into fists at his sides and then relax. He rolls his shoulders and straightens his neck like he’s easing out a crick. Yunho can’t help but watch the play of powerful muscles under smooth, tanned skin, but it just reminds him of the violence he’d just witnessed. Sung Hoon closes the distance between them and takes Yunho’s wrists in his hands, thumbs resting on the quickening thump of Yunho’s pulse. His expression is contrite and Yunho swallows the urge to rip his hands out of the loose grip. Hina steps away from them and ambles over to the secretary, putting their heads together in a hushed conversation.

The body is still there, behind the couch.

Yunho wonders if there’s going to be a funeral. If it’s going to be open casket.

His eyes start to burn with unshed tears.

“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out,” Sung Hoon exhales. Regret is palpable in his voice, in the furrow of his eyebrows. He kisses Yunho’s forehead and puts a hand to his back, leading him towards the doors. “I have some things to take care of. Hina will get you home.”

*

Yunho’s already in bed by the time Sung Hoon comes back.

He can’t sleep. When he closes his eyes, he keeps seeing the downward arch of Sung Hoon’s foot over and over again. Keeps hearing that gruesome squelching of bones fracturing, flesh ground down to a pulpy mess.

He threw up in the bathroom twice.

Yunho feels the warmth of another body shifting close behind him, before he feels Sung Hoon's hand slide over his waist, pulling his t-shirt up enough to rest on bare skin. He doesn't move, doesn't give any indication that he's awake. Sung Hoon's breath puffs against the nape of Yunho's neck for a moment, then Yunho feels the wet press of his lips at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. That makes him shiver and he can feel Sung Hoon smiling into the skin. Sung Hoon's hand slips lower on his belly, fingers brushing the waistband of Yunho's shorts. He can feel the weight of Sung Hoon's cock, thick and hot against him. 

Yunho's stomach clenches and he draws in a shuddering breath. 

The kisses turn languorous and they leave his skin wet and aching. Sung Hoon rocks his hips forwards, rubbing into the cleft of Yunho’s ass. He slips Yunho’s shorts off him slowly, until they’re pressed skin to skin.

“You make me so fucking crazy,” Sung Hoon says in a low whisper, as if confessing a sin. His hand rubs the knobs of Yunho’s vertebrae on his way down and then he’s palming Yunho’s ass. He tugs at the rim of Yunho’s hole, the blunt tips of his fingers pushing insistently to get inside. Sung Hoon’s breath is hot against his ear, prickling goosebumps all over his skin. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” The fingers ease in to the first knuckle. The dry stretch is painful, but Yunho arches into it all the same. “You remember the first time we met? Couldn’t even concentrate on that stupid game because I kept staring at you. I’ve wanted you since then. Never stopped wanting.”

Sung Hoon drags his fingers free and Yunho can breathe again, in fractured gasps that offer him no respite. He’s reeling from the heat in Sung Hoon’s words, like he’d missed a step and is pitching headfirst down a very long flight of stairs_._ He feels wetness with the next push of fingers into him and then he’s being fucked open, messy with slick, clenching around each drag of Sung Hoon’s fingers. They scissor and curl inside him, making Yunho’s legs jerk where they’re spread open to accommodate Sung Hoon’s presence. He’s sobbing by the time Sung Hoon lines up his cock and sinks right in and up. A sharp keen is wrenched free from Yunho’s throat and his spine goes taut, and he’s scrabbling at the sheets as Sung Hoon gives him time to get used to the stretch. He feels huge behind Yunho, all-encompassing. Everywhere.

A strange panic at being trapped tugs at him, but he’s too out of his head for it to properly take hold of him. Sung Hoon ducks his head and his mouth moves wetly over Yunho’s throat, laying open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. He waits until Yunho stops shaking long enough to pull back, scant inches, before rocking forward again. His shallow thrusts lengthen, but he doesn’t rush. He fucks Yunho in his own time, screwing deep and hard, all while whispering Yunho’s name, cycling through inflections that sound too terrifying to be love. Sung Hoon’s nails dig into him, so hard that Yunho thinks Sung Hoon’s searching for bone to get hold of.

Tears blur his vision, but he’s pushing back with every press of Sung Hoon’s cock inside him. He feels empty without and he’s vaguely aware of the sound of laughter, the hand tilting his face to the side so Sung Hoon can kiss him in the mouth.

Slow and gentle, while his cock fucks the air out of Yunho’s lungs.

“You’re perfect,” Sung Hoon croons, pushing back sweat-matted hair from Yunho’s forehead. He kisses the tears on Yunho’s cheeks. “And you’re mine.”

*

Yunho starts noticing the little things, paranoia feeding him its own special hell by the spoonful. The inconspicuous car parked near the kindergarten. Another car near their building, dark-tinted windows giving nothing away. How Sung Hoon always knows where he is and has no problem coming over unannounced, like he had carved out a space right into Yunho’s life and has no intention of leaving.

He doesn’t even think about breaking up.

When Sung Hoon fucks him, Yunho opens his mouth and asks for _more_.

*

“I understand it’s kinda hard to accept what we do.” Hina had taken to keeping Yunho company when Sung Hoon is called away for business. She doesn’t say it, but they both know she’s only there to keep an eye on him. He isn’t sure if she’s even his friend anymore or if she’s an extension of the cars with the dark-tinted windows. They’re drinking coffee in the kitchen and Hina brought scones and blueberry jam. There’s a vase with roses on the table, a card that reads _‘I’ll be home soon. Love, SH_’. Yunho keeps his eyes away from them. “But you’ll get used to it. Chief’s completely into you, y’know? You're lucky.”

Nowadays, Yunho can’t differentiate the agony of being with Changmin and the terror of being with Sung Hoon.

Most of the times, they’re both the same person.

And Yunho. Yunho is standing at the precipice of a chasm, wishing to disappear.

*

"I'm thinking about going back," Yunho says, running a hand through his hair. Sung Hoon glances at him from where he's making breakfast, the spits and crackles of sausages filling in the temporary silence. "My family- I haven't seen them for a while."

It's an excuse, a poor one at that. He’s convinced Sung Hoon sees right through it.

"I'll go with you." 

Yunho feels his breath stick in his throat. "You don't have to."

"_Yunho_." Sung Hoon's voice drops low and it stops the word of protest in Yunho's mouth. There's a hint of a threat in there somewhere, sweet and sharp at once. "I'll go with you."

Yunho's fingers curl into the tablecloth, rippling the once-smooth surface as he tries to stop the world from spiralling out of control. Sung Hoon must've sensed something wrong, always so attentive when it comes to Yunho that nothing escapes him. He turns off the heat, moves the skillet to the side before making his way to Yunho. Right into his space, nudging Yunho's legs apart.

His fingers curl under Yunho's chin, gentle like an apology, and he bows to press a kiss to his lips. "I just want you to be safe.”

Yunho closes his eyes. He doesn’t scream.

*

It’s small mercy that Sung Hoon agrees to wait in the car several streets down while Yunho goes to see his family. His parents are surprised to see him, vacillates between delight and disappointment when he tells them that he’s not back for good. They still don’t understand why he’d quit a respectable job in one of the best high schools in the country and then move to another without any reason. He couldn’t tell them back then, he can’t tell them right now. His father asks him if he likes his current job better and he lies. His mother asks why he’d lost weight, so he lies to her as well. Jihye is usually the only one who could tell when he’s lying but she’s in Seoul, in her last year of university, and he regrets that he doesn’t get to see her.

He stays for lunch. He has to decline dinner because he’s going back later that afternoon.

“Did you find any nice girl there?” His mother hands him a bowl of rice and returns to the stovetop to take the stewed galbi off the heat. “You should think about settling down soon.”

Yunho swallows thickly. The lies taste metallic at the back of his throat.

Saying goodbye takes a while. He waits until his parents retreat back into the house before heading out of the gates. He’d only taken a few steps down the street when a dog comes running up to him, circling around his legs with excited yips. Yunho has no choice but to bend to his knees and start petting it. The dog wags its tail, chuffing at the scrapes of Yunho’s fingers behind its floppy ears, before running off in chase of something else. When he straightens, Yunho sees Changmin standing behind him. He has no idea how long he’s been there.

“Hello, sonsaengnim.” Changmin’s voice is still the same measured cadence Yunho hears in his nightmares, just a little deeper. It scrapes over Yunho’s skin like nails, picking at the seams holding him together. He needs to leave, before he unravels completely. Changmin, older and taller and much more terrifying, smiles as if he intimately knows the panic rattling through Yunho’s head. “It’s been a while.”

Yunho takes a step back, hiding the nervous tremble of his hands by curling them into fists behind him. “What are you doing here? How do you know—”

Changmin moves towards him. Every muscle in Yunho’s body goes taut as he watches the distance between them diminishing by the seconds. He should move, he should turn around and _run_, but he’s pinned in place by the heat in Changmin’s eyes. “Welcoming you home, of course.”

“Don’t come any closer,” Yunho hears himself say. The words spill out quick and desperate, and he stumbles when he tries to back away. “Just— _don’t_.”

He’s surprised when Changmin stops. Not far enough, but he stops and air rushes back into Yunho’s lungs. Changmin looks at him quietly, lips curling into a bemused smile. “We should talk, sonsaengnim.”

Yunho hates that word coming out of Changmin’s mouth. It’s mangled and dirtied and it’s a steel pin bored right through his heart. Still there after all these years, rusting and poisoning him inside out. _Spread your legs for me, sonsaengnim. Don’t you look pretty with my cock in your ass, sonsaengnim? Fuck, sonsaengnim, you’re swallowing me up like you’ve been hungry for cock your entire life. It’s a good look on you, sonsaengnim. C’mon, open your mouth, sonsaengnim. _

_You’re a much better cocksucker than you are a teacher, sonsaengnim._

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Revulsion ripples through Yunho’s veins. He wants Changmin to go away. He wants to close his eyes and when he opens them, he wants to be seven feet underground. Rotting and finally _free_. “I have to go. Someone— Someone’s waiting for me.”

Changmin’s face hardens at once. He’s carved out of stone, immovable face set permanently to displeasure. “About that.” He holds Yunho’s gaze with level significance, like he’s making an important point. “It’s in your best interest to not be involved with a man like him. Move back here and I’ll make sure he won’t get to you again.”

Yunho stares at Changmin, a flush rising to his cheeks at being found out. He doesn’t even get to ask _how_ because he sees Sung Hoon casually ambling up the street, until he’s close enough to join their little get together. Yunho’s brain scrambles to come up with some sort of an excuse, of who Changmin is and what he’s doing there. He finds nothing that could even come close to an explanation. Sung Hoon crosses his arms and regards Changmin with the kind of anger Yunho had never seen before. It’s simmering right under the skin, only evident in the way Sung Hoon’s jaw flexes before he opens his mouth.

“I thought I made it clear that you should leave him alone.”

Changmin’s expression had shifted to deliberate nonchalance, as if unbothered by the threat of Sung Hoon’s presence. “Lest you forget, old man, this is my turf.” He clicks his tongue. “Besides, you still owe me for that private investigator you sent back in a body bag.”

“Email me an invoice, I don’t give a fuck. We’re done here.” Sung Hoon holds out a hand towards Yunho, palm upturned. He stares at it and his brain is slow to understand what Sung Hoon means. He doesn’t move, not even when Sung Hoon looks at him impatiently. “C’mon, we’re leaving.”

Changmin scoffs. “Why don’t you let him choose? Afraid you’re gonna lose out?” His voice gentles, his expression opens up to something akin to affection when he turns to Yunho. “Stay, sonsaengnim. I’ll take care of you.”

Yunho feels like he’s grasping at thin air, losing the thread of what he knows and what he doesn’t. His heart slides a little deeper into the pit of his belly when it dawns to him that Changmin and Sunghoon have known each other. Perhaps for years. They’d talked about _him_ before, setting boundaries he didn’t even realise existed. It’s like the shape of Yunho’s existence is chalk-lined, like a dead body in one of those outdated police procedurals.

Yunho’s stomach contracts painfully.

He’s just a body to them. He’s just flesh, being fought over by two very hungry predators.

_Does it matter which would tear him apart in the end?_

Yunho looks at the smile on Changmin's face, and then at Sung Hoon's outstretched hand.

_No. No, it wouldn’t._

He reaches out and hears the snap of teeth closing around his jugular.

*

**end**

*

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